The cadet officer ran to the deputy as fast as his spindly legs could carry him. He clicked his heels together and, with an informative air, said, “Sir, the accused are all present.”
The detective and Aziz al-Saltaneh came over to Dear Uncle and Asadollah Mirza. Aziz al-Saltaneh was making a show of grief and tears. The deputy suddenly thrust his finger under Asadollah Mirza’s nose and shouted, “Mr. Asadollah Mirza, there is such an accumulation of evidence against you that if I were in your shoes I would confess immediately. Confess! Quick, now, immediately, at the double!”
Asadollah Mirza bowed his head and in a muffled voice said, “Yes, officer, perhaps you’re right . . . I confess that I killed Dustali.”
SEVEN
FOR A FEW MOMENTS after Asadollah Mirza’s sudden confession Deputy Taymur stood still and speechless. Gradually, with his mouth still closed, he began to laugh. “Silence! Another success for the international system of surprise attack! Another murderer is in the clutches of the law! Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi, the handcuffs!”
Everyone stood rooted to the spot. I quietly went over to the group. As if it were coming from the bottom of a well, Shamsali Mirza’s voice broke the silence, “Asadollah . . . Asadollah, what’s this I hear?”
Dear Uncle had had no opportunity to pass on to Shamsali Mirza his collusion with Asadollah Mirza, and perhaps he was worried about this. He said, “Sir . . . your honor . . . don’t worry, it’s sure to be just a misunderstanding.”
Suddenly everyone burst out at everyone else. They were having difficulty controlling Aziz al-Saltaneh and she tried to throw herself at Asadollah Mirza. “Then you really truly did kill Dustali? You shameless bastard! You murderer!”
Shamsali Mirza sank down in a faint on the bench. Dear Uncle, for credibility’s sake, addressed Asadollah Mirza in the most violent manner. Finally Deputy Taymur’s voice rose over everyone else’s, “Silence . . . I said silence!”
But Aziz al-Saltaneh didn’t pause for a moment in her attempts to attack Asadollah Mirza, who stood there with his head bowed. “I’ll scratch your eyes out with my own fingernails. God, I’ll see you on a mortuary slab . . . I’m not my father’s daughter if I don’t kill you with my own hands . . . may you die of bubonic plague! What had that poor innocent child done to you?”
At a sign from the deputy, Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi, with both hands, grabbed Aziz al-Saltaneh from behind. It took a few moments for her to calm down. Deputy Taymur wiped the sweat from his brow and said, “Madam! An individual must not take the law into his own hands! The angel of justice watches over us; this murderer will receive his just deserts for his evil crime. I promise you that within a month I will deliver his body to you on the gallows.”
And then he said to his assistant, “Cadet Officer, what’s happened to the handcuffs?”
“Sir, I went to the office and they said you’d given an order that I was to come to this address . . . I wanted to pick them up on the way but I didn’t get a chance . . . if you remember the lock was broken and we’d given them to be mended.”
“Idiot! . . . you utter cretin . . .”
Mash Qasem pushed into the conversation, “Do you want me to bring a clothesline and tie up his arms?”
Dear Uncle interrupted, “Officer . . . I still can’t believe . . . but I beg you, sir, to forget about handcuffs and ropes. I guarantee that Asadollah will not run away. Just consider, would a man who’s so conscience-stricken and who confesses so candidly run away? You only have to look at his face!”
Asadollah Mirza had such an ashamed, penitent look on his face that if I hadn’t known the truth of the matter, I’d certainly have believed that he had killed Dustali.
The detective pretended he was satisfied, but in any case he had no choice since Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi hadn’t brought the handcuffs with him. “If I don’t handcuff you, do you promise that you’ll accept your fate like a man and not think of running away?”
“I promise.”
Mash Qasem suggested that he go and fetch some water to splash on Shamsali Mirza’s face, but the detective stopped him. “Silence! The gentleman is very excitable . . . it’s better that he remain in this state until we’ve finished our investigation.”
Then he stood in front of Asadollah Mirza. Cleaning his pince-nez with a folded handkerchief, he said in a triumphant voice, “It’s impossible, with this system of surprise attack, for a criminal not to confess . . . but, all the same, since you quickly realized that logically you had to confess, it’s clear that you are not a very foolish person. Now I want you to answer my questions very carefully, and, obviously, sincerity and truthfulness will not be without influence on your ultimate fate.”
Once again Aziz al-Saltaneh went for Asadollah Mirza but Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi stopped her in time and, on the deputy’s orders, sat her down on the stone bench, and then threw his whole body’s weight down on the lady’s ample form to keep her from moving. The deputy continued his cross-examination, “Silence! I asked when you killed the poor wretch?”
Without raising his head, Asadollah Mirza said, “That same night he’d run away from his house . . .”
“Just a minute! Why had the murder victim run away from his house? Answer, quick, now, immediately, at the double!”
“Moment! First, now I’ve confessed, why do we need all this quick and at the double and immediately? Second, how many times do I have to tell you? I told you his wife wanted to circumcise . . . thingy . . .”
“Thingy? What thingy? Answer, quick, immediately, at the double!”
“I mean the murder victim. I’m so conscience-stricken I can’t bring myself to pronounce his name.”
“Well, and then?”
“When he came here, he was afraid to go back to his house, God forbid his wife would want to circumcise him again . . .”
“But hadn’t she circumcised him once? How could she do it again?”
“No sir, I meant he was afraid she’d circumcise him. He said, ‘I’m not going home.’ The Master insisted that he sleep here that night. When I saw that he was uncomfortable about staying here, too, I secretly suggested to him that when everyone was asleep he come over to my house.”
“Well, did he come or not?”
“Moment, officer! What kind of a question is this? If he hadn’t come, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“Well, and then? He came, and what happened next?”
“Nothing . . . it was three in the morning when he came. My brother was asleep. I saw it was the best time for it, I cut his head off . . .”
With a sudden heave Aziz al-Saltaneh threw Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi’s body to the floor and went for Asadollah Mirza. “I’ll gouge your eyes out . . . may you rot in hell!”
Once again, and with some difficulty, they immobilized her.
“So you cut his head off?”
“Yes, I cut it off.”
“Then what did you do? Quick, now, immediately, at the double!”
“Quick, now, immediately, I threw his head away!”
Mash Qasem slapped himself on the thigh. “Eh, God in heaven! Well, ’s obvious a guy what drinks wine and whisky’s gonna finish up like this.”
Dear Uncle impatiently said, “You just shut up, Qasem!”
“Silence! Everyone here makes fun of me! You threw his head away? Was it the head of a cucumber, that you threw it away?”
“I meant that I separated his head from his body.”
“What with? With a knife? A cleaver? A stiletto? A dagger? Silence! What was the reason? Why did you kill the victim?”
“Well, I . . .”
“Quick, now, at the double, answer!”
Once again Asadollah Mirza bowed his head, “I’ve said everything; this is one thing I can’t say.”
The detective narrowed his eyes and brou
ght his huge face close to Asadollah Mirza’s face. “Aha . . . so you can’t say! Well, well! The gentleman can’t say this one thing . . .”
When they’d once again seated Aziz al-Saltaneh, whose eyes were like two saucers of fire from the intensity of her rage and fury, the detective continued, “So you cannot say the reason? Let me see! Perhaps there are other crimes still hidden here, eh? Yes? Quick, now, immediately, at the double, answer!”
“Moment! So you’re making me out to be Asghar the murderer, are you?”
“Silence! You are even more dangerous than Asghar the murderer! Asghar the murderer didn’t cut off some huge fellow’s head! Why did you kill him? Answer! Quick, immediately, at the double!”
“I’m very sorry, officer, I can’t answer this question.”
“Silence! Well, well! You can’t answer? We shall see . . . Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi . . . !”
“Moment, moment! I agree . . . now you’re putting pressure on me, I’ll talk . . . I killed . . . I killed . . . I killed Dustali . . . because . . .”
“Because what? Immediately, now, at the double!”
Asadollah bowed his head even further than before and like a shy little boy said, “Because I was in love with his wife . . . because Dustali had stolen my love . . . because he had inflicted the most terrible wound on my heart.”
Everyone was silent. The detective’s mouth hung open in amazement. I involuntarily looked at Aziz al-Saltaneh. She was standing stock-still, with round astonished eyes and her mouth wide open. In a quiet voice the detective asked, “This lady here? You loved this lady here?”
Asadollah Mirza sighed and said, “Yes, officer! Now that my life has come to an end everyone may as well know.”
Aziz al-Saltaneh was staring at Asadollah Mirza, still with her mouth wide open. Finally and with difficulty she closed it, swallowed, then moaned plaintively, “Asadollah! Asadollah!”
Asadollah Mirza, who was perhaps allowing his role to influence him more than was strictly necessary, said in a voice filled with sorrow and longing, “How many times have great poets let concealment like a worm in the bud . . . this time the veil has been torn aside from the secret.”
Everyone present was deeply touched and remained silent. Aziz al-Saltaneh said in a way that was sorrowful and at the same time flirtatious, “Well, God strike me dead! Asadollah! O Asadollah! What have you done? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Asadollah said in a lovesick tone, “Madam, don’t heat the brand again! Don’t turn the knife in my heart’s wound!”
“O Asadollah, I wish I were dead rather than see you in this state! Why didn’t you say? Oh, why did you cut his head off?”
“Dearest, enough! Don’t break my heart!”
“O God strike me dead, Asadollah . . . don’t worry, I’ve got to let bygones be bygones, and I shall, too . . . these things happen!”
Deputy Taymur could not stand any more of this. He yelled, “Silence! Madam, the murderer must proceed to punishment. Your forgiveness of bygones doesn’t have very much to do with it!”
Aziz al-Saltaneh suddenly exploded in fury against the deputy, “Silence yourself and to hell with you! What are you talking about! Is it my husband he’s killed or your husband? He was my husband and if I don’t want to take it any further . . .”
“Silence! How can you not take it any further?”
“Any way I want . . . he’d had his life, God rest his soul. He used to say he was fifty but he was sixty if he was a day . . .”
Deputy Taymur brought his huge face close to hers and shouted, “Silence! Then in that case it’s not at all unlikely that you two colluded in a plan to do away with this innocent child! Silence! How long ago was it that you . . . Ough!”
The deputy could not finish what he was saying because Aziz al-Saltaneh had sunk her nails into his thick neck. “I’ll do away with you, too, so think on!”
“Murderer! Killer! Silence! Do you take me for another innocent helpless victim?”
Aziz al-Saltaneh shouted, “Murderer yourself! God rest his soul, he was innocent the same way you are. With the wife of Shir Ali the butcher . . .”
Dear Uncle and Asadollah Mirza together started making a racket so that the detective wouldn’t hear anything about Shir Ali. Deputy Taymur seemed not to hear anything and was silent, but, when the noise had died down, he suddenly jumped toward Asadollah Mirza and said, “And who was Shir Ali the butcher? Answer! Quick, now, immediately, at the double!”
Virtually together, Dear Uncle and Asadollah Mirza noisily started to respond. Finally Dear Uncle said, “Sir, that’s a subject of no importance. Shir Ali was the butcher in this neighborhood. A few years ago he passed away.”
With a sad face Asadollah Mirza added, “God rest his soul, he was a good man. Shir Ali . . . he caught typhoid two years ago and died.”
“Silence! And how is it clear that you didn’t kill this poor wretch, too?”
“Moment, moment, why don’t you just announce once and for all that I’ve no other profession or occupation than killing people? When I killed Dustali, that was enough for the rest of my life and more!”
“Is that so! Is that so! Well, you haven’t said where you’ve hidden the body.”
“I took him in the yard of my house and buried him.”
The deputy once again jumped at him. “Who helped you? Quick, at the double, immediately, answer!”
“No one, officer. I took him myself to the entrance to the yard . . .”
Asadollah Mirza put his hand on his back and wrinkled his eyebrows, “Ouch, my back . . . my back still hurts. You’ve no idea how heavy his body was!”
Aziz al-Saltaneh raised her eyebrows and said, “Well, he ate so much!”
Dear Uncle shouted, “Madam, this is shameful. That’s enough!”
The detective shouted, “Silence! You, too, silence! Everyone, silence! I shall proceed to the site of the concealment of the corpse! No one has the right to leave this garden until we return! Silence! Madam, you stay here, too, until we return!”
“Forget it! I’m coming with you.”
“Madam, seeing a headless corpse will not be a very pretty sight for you. It’s better that you . . .”
Aziz al-Saltaneh decisively cut him off and, pointing at Asadollah Mirza, said, “I let you lead a young man off like a sheep to the slaughter while I stay here? No way, I’m coming, too . . . let’s go. Besides, is it my husband’s head or your husband’s head?”
When Asadollah Mirza set off to go with them I heard him say under his breath, “God and all the saints help me now . . . I wasn’t prepared for this!”
As soon as the detective and his assistant had left, together with Asadollah Mirza and Aziz al-Saltaneh, first Dear Uncle told Shamsali Mirza about the plan, and then a feverish search for Dustali Khan began. Dear Uncle sent people off to two or three places where he guessed Dustali Khan might be hiding. At the same time, uncle colonel, who had not shown his face during the whole affair, came out of his house and, after he had gathered what was going on, began to bend all his efforts toward settling the differences between Dear Uncle Napoleon and my father. His first step was to prepare the ground for a solution. In a decisive voice he told Dear Uncle Napoleon that if peace had not been achieved by the end of the night, he would without hesitation leave the paternal home and he would let it to some disreputable lout living in the neighborhood. At his instigation my mother threatened my father that if the differences were not solved, she would kill herself by eating opium.
While Dear Uncle Napoleon and his emissaries were busy running everywhere looking for Dustali Khan, and Asadollah Mirza and Aziz al-Saltaneh were off with the detective and his assistant to Asadollah Mirza’s house to find Dustali Khan’s corpse, uncle colonel arranged for an extraordinary meeting of the family council.
Negotiations for
ending the differences between the two sides began. Uncle colonel and Shamsali Mirza frequently went off to see Dear Uncle Napoleon and my father and then returned.
Many of the differences between them could be solved and the two parties didn’t make many difficulties about them. Dear Uncle Napoleon agreed that henceforth he would not hinder the free flow of water. My father was prepared to forget about both Aziz al-Saltaneh’s attempt on her husband and the relationship between Dustali Khan and Shir Ali the butcher’s wife. Dear Uncle was prepared to ask the preacher Seyed Abolqasem to put right the matter of the presence of alcohol in the drugs manufactured in my father’s pharmacy, and, in order to facilitate the preacher’s task, my father was ready to dismiss his pharmacist and engage another manager. My father was ready to stop making contemptuous remarks in public about Napoleon, but he drew the line at praising him and paying tribute to him. After renewed comings and goings by uncle colonel and Shamsali Mirza, he finally agreed to say publicly at a family gathering that, although Napoleon’s activities had ended by harming France, he had, when all was said and done, loved France.
But despite persistent pressure from his relatives my father refused to admit to Dear Uncle’s support for the Constitutional Revolution. The only concession he made was that he agreed not to deny Dear Uncle’s bravery in putting down the insurgents in the south of the country, especially at the battles of Kazerun and Mamasani and so forth.
The only remaining bone of contention was the matter of the dubious sound. Dear Uncle expected my father to say in front of everyone that, although the dubious sound had in fact come from his direction, it wasn’t done on purpose. My father was not going to agree that the dubious sound had come from him and he wanted Dear Uncle to apologize for publicly reciting the verses beginning “To raise up someone vile . . .” with him in mind. Finally the notion was put forward, and gathered strength, that the dubious sound be attributed to someone else and that this person should provide proof positive that the sound had come from him.
My Uncle Napoleon Page 16